


Universal Constant

by Rahn (Rahndom)



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, M/M, POV, Some could consider it a bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahndom/pseuds/Rahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his traumatic break-up with M'gann, Kon leaves Mount Justice to heal and find himself. When he comes back everything is different, alien. Those he considered his friends have moved on and left him behind and a new generation of heroes treat him with distance and awe. </p><p>That is until he notices that new Robin of shy disposition that walks around in silent feet... </p><p>And he feels their conection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inariazuha](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=inariazuha).



Kon wasn’t really sure how or when is started, or maybe he was… it was complicated. As far as he knew the team was finally settling onto itself and Superman was finally acknowledging him – had even given him a _name_ – and then, out of nowhere, Robin had decided he didn’t want to be Robin anymore and he left and Kaldur was hanging around with a girl and Roy was sneaking around with Artemis’ sister and everything seemed so different and he didn’t like it.

Finally, M’gann betrayed him in the most unthinkable way, in ways Kon only thought Luthor capable of and the young clone found himself doubting his own identity, his very grasp of reality up until that point.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He collapsed.

Thank Rao Clark had been there to catch him on his way to Honolulu – he had always liked the warmer climate – and had dragged him, kicking and screaming to Kansas, to Smallville, to Ma’ and Pa’.

Though he was proud to admit he had managed to pierce his ears before he was caught, his own very ridiculous act of rebellion that still made Clark’s brows furrow and Ma’ sigh in fond exasperation.

Still, with his hands deep in soil, the sun hitting his back until sweat soaked his shirt, Pa’s hand on his shoulder and Ma’s pie on his stomach, Kon-El began the arduous process of finding whatever part of his shared DNA was actually himself.

And hopefully healing.

Some had called him selfish for ditching the team and his duties. Some had compared him to Robin’s ego and Wally’s cowardice, some of the new kids scoffed whenever his name was mentioned and loudly expressed their opinion over his choices, fully aware his superhearing allowed him to receive such abuse despite the distance, up to the point when he stopped checking on the team and HQ, when he decided he was not going to worry for people who couldn’t find it in themselves to worry about his well-being.

Well… until Ma’ told him he shouldn’t, at the very least.

It hurt.

Of that he was sure.

A few years passed.

When he was finally stable enough to return to the team, a somber mood had fallen over HQ. Wally and Artemis were gone, for one, feeling too old to be out in the field, too scared. Kaldur, on the other hand, had turned traitor on them, deciding to join his father – and who would have guessed? Kaldur?. M’gann had a new boyfriend.

Robin was dead.

He hadn’t been quite sure what had happened – only that the Robin who had died wasn’t the Robin he had worked with, that one was Nightwing now, but his replacement – and that his former teammates were now older and busy training younger counterparts to take their places.

Roy had a clone named ‘Arsenal’, there was another Robin – a third? –, there was another little Kid Flash – who preferred to go by ‘Impulse’ and a strange blue-suited kid who spoke to himself a whole lot of the time, and Nightwing was the new leader and advisor.

Kon felt lost, alienated from this new team that was half in awe of his powers and achievements and half too afraid to approach him should they incur in his infamous wrath.

So, without really knowing any other options, he did what he had done in the very beginning, he kept to himself, spent the nights back in Smallville, despite Nightwing’s protests, and only came over if his presence was _absolutely_ necessary, which wasn’t often.

And, it was due to his self-imposed solitude, that this new revelation of his happened.

\---

He first noticed the new Robin as something other than a replacement of the last two when he came to the realization that he, actually, _couldn’t notice him at all._

And it was as confusing to explain as it was to experience it. He had grown far too accustomed to Nightwing’s overly-eager persona and how he used to barrel his way into Kon’s personal space in order to coax him out of his so-called shell, so when he noticed that the new kid walked around on silent feet and usually made sure to be as unobstructive as possible give the chance, the clone didn’t know what to think about it.

So he spoke.

“Are you a meta?” he asked one afternoon as the boy glided past him, his eyes widening when the teen squeaked in surprise and fell on his ass. “Are you okay?”

“I… I… yes?” Robin replied, his cheeks flushing a bright red that made his pale face – paler than Nightwing’s had been – turn the same shade of his uniform.

Kon nodded.

“So,” he repeated. “Are you a meta or not?”

“N-no!” Robin cried, shaking his head. “I’m human!”

The clone frowned.

“But you fly.”

“Huh?”

“You float like C-like Superman,” the older teen scowled. “There is no other explanation.”

Robin frowned.

“Explanation for…” he asked back, tilting his head to the side the same way Wolf did when he was confused.

“You make no sound when you walk,” Kon explained, nodding to himself. “You only make a sound when you want to and it’s weird.”

The color on Robin’s cheeks darkened.

“Thank you?”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” the clone corrected. “It’s your power.”

“Uh…” Robin hesitated, he did that a lot. “It’s not a power… I’m just really quiet.”

Kon stared, not satisfied by such answer. There was no way the teen was just a human. There was no human that quiet, it was impossible…

… then again Clark used to say Batman had that ability as well.

He nodded.

“Are you Batman’s son?” he asked this time, his curiosity peaked.

Robin stared.

“No?” he said softly. “And before you ask, he’s not a meta either. We are just _really_ quiet.”

The clone nodded.

Robin hesitated – again.

“Do you… do you really think I’m that quiet?” he asked. “As quiet as Batman?”

“You are,” Kon replied, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s really weird.”

Robin lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Kon wanted to say something on the face of the other teen’s obvious misery. He thought of something M’gann or Nightwing would have said but the thought of them – those who were leaving him behind – left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Ma’ told him once nothing could go wrong if he opened his heart and spoke with honesty, and Ma’ was seldom wrong, so he decided to be honest this time…

However, as he was opening his mouth to tell Robin not even Nightwing had been that quiet when they met – something that even he could consider high praise – they were rudely interrupted by loud footsteps and the metallic clank of a hand against the doorway.

“Baby Bird?” Roy – the other Roy, the Arsenal Roy – asked as he entered the room. “There you are! You promised we were gonna spar, remember?”

Robin turned, still sitting on the floor, and his eyes visibly widened behind his mask.

“Ah, I was…” he muttered. “Water.”

“You were running away,” Arsenal leered in a way that made Robin’s cheeks regain their red hue and Kon’s eyes narrow dangerously despite himself.

“I wasn’t!” Robin protested, jumping gracefully to his feet. “I got distracted while talking to Kon-El!”

Kon blinked.

Arsenal stared.

“Who?” he asked.

Robin pointed a hesitant finger towards the clone.

“Superboy?” he asked, and then his finger fell as he realized what he had done. “I … ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to presume, but Batman said that was your name and I…”

“It’s fine,” Kon said, nodding at the smaller teen. “I like my name.”

Robin stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide.

Then he smiled, a shy curl to the lips.

Kon felt something inside of him warm up.

Arsenal scowled.

“Stop stalling, Baby Bird!” he protested, pulling the other boy to him by the arm and the scooping him until Robin was draped over his shoulder. “I wanna go kick your ass!”

Robin scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is this about that Arrow Training versus Bat Training thing again?” he asked, so visibly annoyed Kon was actually surprised. “I told you Batman didn’t train me like he trained Nightwing!”

“More the reason to kick that pretty ass of yours to the floor!” Arsenal beamed mockingly, his step light. “Then you’ll let me see that doll face you have behind your mask, right?”

“What?!” Robin protested, struggling. “No way!”

Arsenal only replied with a mocking, roaring laugh as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Robin still over his shoulder like a captured prey.

Kon felt his clenched fist bend the steel framing of the couch as he tried to control this new, unnamed emotion he was just now discovering.

No one other than Nightwing could make Robin smile, and even that required for the elder hero to practically make a fool of himself to achieve.

But Kon had done it, all on his own.

He had made Robin smile.

Robin had a pretty smile, at that. One that fit his quiet and unobstructive personality.

It was very nice.

And then Roy-clone had to barge in on whatever connection had formed between them – and it had been a connection, something human and empathetic and gentle. Nothing mental or telepathic, not anymore – and taken Robin away for whatever ridiculous contest the Arrows had with the Bats, teasing and leering in that uncomfortable way that reminded Kon of Wally’s younger years.

But worse.

It was dirtier, filthy.

It made the warmth inside of Kon slowly simmer into a boil and every single one of his muscles tense, his vision turning a violent red.

For a moment, he wanted Robin back and Arsenal gone, and the intensity of such emotion frightened him.

Especially when he noticed the newly made scorch marks that now adorned the place Roy had last been standing.

He needed to call Clark.

\-------

Impulse had some strange knowledge of the future that made him frightening and dangerous in ways Kon didn’t want to consider.

Nightwing seemed amused by his cheerful personality – they were far too similar in Kon’s opinion – and the older hero usually encouraged his childish behavior with enthusiasm.

Robin, on the other hand, held a definitive mix of tolerance and wariness for the speedster. He spent time with him when Impulse requested it, and sometimes they could be found engaging in deep conversations about science and technology that made Blue Beetle leave them alone for hours and Kon’s ears hurt.

During such conversations Bart would often drape himself over Robin, snuggling into the other boy’s personal space. And Robin would be so engrossed in whatever they were doing, that he would absently end up petting Impulse’s fluffy hair instead of reacting with his usually shy demeanor.

Kon would have been angry – Clark said it was normal for him to be angry, all the while smiling as if he was the holder of one gigantic secret, the bastard – but he had already seen Arsenal try to get the same petting from the smaller teen, only to be refuted with a squeak of surprise, a colorful curse, and a foot planted on the forehead that left a mark lasting for a day.

The sight had filled him with a satisfaction that had only soured when he realized it meant Impulse was someone special. Someone Robin considered unique.

Like Nightwing.

He felt bitter.

A part of him was acutely aware that his fascination with the younger boy was not normal. The way his eyes would instantly zero-in on his red and black uniform whenever he entered the room, how he was constantly seeking out Robin’s heartbeat and reveling in its soothing, steady sound at night.

The beating of Robin’s heart was a far better alternative than the static sound of the T.V. he used during the day, anyways. It helped him concentrate, block all other sounds and enjoy silence his power seldom allowed.

Damn, even the fact that Robin always called him by his name Kon-El, instead of Conner – Superman’s name instead of M’gann’s – made the clone irresistibly intrigued by the lonesome teenager with the silent feet and the shy smile.

“I don’t get it,” Jaime said one day as he allowed himself to fall on the couch. “Don’t you guys want to watch something other than static?”

Kon frowned, not comfortable with the sudden intrusion in his space. He had been spending time alone, so what did Beetle mean with: ‘You guys’? Was he talking to the voices in his head again and he just happened to be nearby?

“Superboy uses the sound to block his super-hearing and I don’t mind, the white noise helps me concentrate,” a soft, shy voice called in a sigh.

The clone blinked, eyes wide as he finally noticed that Robin was sitting in a plush chair to his right, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes set on the holo-screen of his wrist computer as he read, fingers dancing over the keyboard expertly.

Impulse appeared, holding a bowl of popcorn bigger than his chest.

“You do?” he asked, prompting Superboy to stare at him.

“… I do,” he admitted almost too silently.

“That’s so crash!” the other teen beamed, dropping himself in the last available single chair in the room.

Blue Beetle scowled, his mouth pursing.

“How did you know?” he asked Robin, leaning closer to the other teen.

Robin flushed.

“I… I just…”

“He’s _Robin,_ Bro!” Impulse laughed, eyes wide. “He knows everything!”

Blue Beetle took the challenge immediately.

“Oh really?” he asked. “Then what’s my name?”

“Psh! Blue!” Impulse chortled. “We all know your name!”

“Nah!” the other teen laughed, his smile daring. “The whole-“

“Jaime Francisco Reyes Aguilar,” Robin whispered softly, his eyes set on the screen.

“…thing…” Jaime finished, shocked. “Holy shit, hermano! Did you just look that up!?”

 “Ummm, no?” Robin replied. “I remember it from the time you showed us your driver’s license.”

“You are very observant,” Kon said, feeling emboldened when Robin’s attention turned to him.

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. “Though it’s not a superpower either.”

Kon smiled lightly.

“I’ll get you yet,” he replied, his lips twitching.

Robin nodded, his own small smile curling his lips.

And yeah, maybe he wasn’t petted on the head like Impulse – and he had to admit it looked like something nice to feel, the way Robin’s thin fingers carded through his hair – but he still had an ability no one else had.

And he treasured it.

 


	2. Birthday

Impulse – Bart, he wanted to be called Bart – had decided today was the perfect summer day for them to have their own, personal, secret field-trip, something only the new generation could do, keeping the rest of the team and their mentors ignorant and maybe using it as training for stealth and espionage.

Team-work exercises maybe?

Kon wasn’t sure, the speedster talked far too much for his liking.

At first, the clone had not been really into the idea. He could still remember the last time someone had invited him to do team-building exercises and what had happened to that team in the end, and he had felt gratified that neither Blue Beetle – Jaime, hermano, come on! If you call him Bart call  _me_ Jaime – nor Arsenal had agreed to the improvised outing as well.

None of them were stealth agents in the team anyways.

That’s what Robin was for and since that particular day the teen was absent from HQ, there was really no point in them training in an ability none were going to actually use.

Was there?

But then Bart had finally slumped in his seat, his pose defeated as he admitted he had wanted the four of them to sneak into Gotham in their civies – no powers, no weapons, just four teens undercover – and look for Robin in his house – and  _of course_ Bart knew where Robin’s house was located, du’h, future knowledge? – because today it was Robin’s birthday and he knew for a fact the teen would spend most of the day alone and it wasn’t fair someone as nice as Robin had to spend the day on his own, was it?

The clone had immediately agreed to the excursion – internally arguing that he could act as their adult supervision, right? He was older? -  and yeah, it had a lot to do with the fact that Arsenal had instantly jumped at the chance to catch ‘Baby Bird’ in his element.

He was not going to leave Robin on his birthday alone with Bart and Jaime, vulnerable to Arsenal's inappropriate teasing.

Because spending one’s birthday alone was painful, he told himself as he put on the flannel shirt and glasses Impul… Bart insisted he used for the perfect disguise. He had spent his last birthday alone and it had hurt to notice his friends had picked sides after his and M’gann’s break-up…

… and no one had picked his.

Yes, he repeated to himself as he checked himself in the mirror and scowled at how much he looked like Clark, he just wanted to spare Robin the hurt the way the other teen spared him the loneliness by sitting with him when he watched TV and how he paid attention to him in those little ways he usually did that made Kon feel special and unique.

It was the least he could do.

And so, there they were, all four of them trying not to fidget as they sat on a crowded bus, Arsenal eyeing the outside world through the window with disinterest while Kon did his best not to move and Jaime held Bart down so the other teen did not vibrate as he cheerfully spoke onto his phone.

“I know Bro, you are the crash-est!” he beamed, laughing almost maniacally. “And I know I double, no, I triple owe you! I’ll keep a shrine to your memory! I swear! Forever!”

And while Jaime and Arsenal eyed the speedster in confusion, Kon could easily hear Wally’s tired, hesitant voice on the other end of the line as he typed on his computer.

“Sure, sure, Bart,” he said, his own smile clear in his voice. “Just remember I can distract Nightwing and Batgirl for about thirty minutes, tops. You have until then to reach destination before the Bats fall onto you.”

“Will do! We are almost entering the city now! More than enough time to lose ourselves in the crowd!” the younger speedster said happily, almost unable to keep still on his seat. “Have I told you how awesome and handsome and crash you are?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wally said. “Thirty minutes, Bart, don’t make me regret this.”

“Roger!” the teen said, finally pocketing his phone and grinning a wide – and rather disturbing -  smile at his friends. “As soon as the bus stops we are on the subway guys, we can’t stop moving until we hit destination.”

“Destination being…” Arsenal raised an eyebrow, slowly adjusting the blue baseball cap he wore over his eyes.

“Tim’s house, obviously,” the speedster replied, grabbing his bag.

The bus entered the city just as the four of them prepared to disembark and even before the first passenger was ready, they were out and entering the underbelly of Gotham, heads lowered, hands brushing against eachother, always one step behind the surveillance cameras.

They had twenty minutes.

The people in Gotham were different than the ones in Metropolis, Kon thought, and definitely different than the ones in Smallville.

There was a tense set on their shoulders, a mistrustful glint in their eyes and in the way they avoided any and every shadow if they could help it.

All citizens kept a hand on their pocket – and a quick surveillance with his x-ray vision showed Kon some were clutching their keys, some held spray cans of some sort, some were just tightening their hold of their phones – and the other free as they rode the train.

It was so strange to see these people ready for an attack and yet going through their daily lives normally.

No wonder Robin was always so tense.

Kon continued to stare at his surroundings, his hand held tightly in Bart’s as the smaller teen steered him around.

“Fifteen minutes,” Jaime whispered to them, eyes set on his plastic watch.

“Let’s hurry,” Bart said, nodding.

“Don’t run,” Arsenal hissed back, eyes narrowing. “You use your powers and Batman will be in our asses in seconds.”

“Awww…” Bart replied, his lips pursing. “We won’t make it in time if we don’t hurry.”

“Where exactly are we going?” Jaime asked, shaking his head.

“Gotham Heights,” Bart laughed.

Kon watched as Bl-Jaime muttered something to himself, his eyes narrowing for a moment before something blue-yellow-green glittered in his eyes and then, finally, he nodded.

“Follow me,” the teen said, smirk wide. “I think I know a shortcut if we cut behind Grant Park, but we’ll need to run the human way. You can do that Imp?”

Bart nodded, his smile impossibly wide.

“Sups?” the speedster asked.

Kon nodded as well, not sure.

“Then we follow Beetle and run for our lives?” Arsenal asked, his own lips curling.

A shadow passed over them with a familiar black-grey cape.

All four teens started running then, not daring to turn around.

Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds later they were walking towards a bright red door surrounded with cheerful flowers and a golden doorbell.

It was definitely not the house he has expected Robin to live in. He had thought it would be a Spartan apartment with wide windows and grey walls, a place full of maps and dull colors where everything was functional.

... The Easter Island Statue in the middle of the hallway he could see through the sidewall of the house was definitely nothing functional.

... Or aesthetic.

Bart rang the doorbell, swinging back and forth in the balls of his feet.

Everyone held their breath.

The door opened.

And a rather sweet-looking, white haired old lady with a colorful apron and glasses slowly slipping down her nose stared at them.

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head.

Bart smiled.

“Hi! We’re looking for T…” the speedster stopped, shiftily looking at his friends. “Ummm we are here for…”

The woman blinked at them, and Kon could swear she was ready to call the police on them – if the way she eyed Arsenal’s bulging jacket-sleeve was any indication – and the clone couldn’t blame her, to be honest. But then her eyes were light and her hesitant smile gained force as she beamed.

“Oh! Just a second boys!” she said, instantly disappearing behind the door once more.

“Dude! What the hell!” Jaime complained, his hand about to slap Bart at the back of the head.

“I can’t just say Rob’s name!” the speedster argued. “Secret identities!”

“But you know it?” Arsenal asked, his interest peaked.

Kon had to admit it was a little unfair Bart knew Robin’s name before he did. And, of course he understood the future knowledge and everything, it was normal for Bart to know things they didn’t.

It still felt like a betrayal.

The door opened once more.

A slender teenager was standing there in an over-sized grey hoodie and jeans.

A phone to his ear.

“It’s okay, dad, I understand you guys are busy,” he was saying, his voice soft. “Yeah, I love you too. Tell mom as soon as you guys come home we’ll go to the movies. Aha… Ahah? Yeah, me too.”

Light blue eyes turned to them.

Then widened.

“I… I gotta go dad, tell mom I love her too, bye!” he hurried to say, his finger frantically pressing the off button. “What on Earth are you doing here!!”

“Hey, buddy!” Bart beamed, fishing into his pant’s pocket for a clumsily wrapped small package. “Happy Birthday!”

“You can’t be here!” Robin argued once more, hands pulling his hoodie over his head to hide his features. “How are you here?!”

“Don’t look at me, hermano,” Jaime shrugged. “Bart decided it would be great stealth training.”

“And we didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday!” the speedster interrupted, jumping. “Aren’t we such great friends?”

That gave Robin a pause.

“Really?” he asked, his voice gaining his usual nervous lilt. “You knew I was… what am I saying, you and your future knowledge and…”

He bit his bottom lip.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” he declared finally, entering the house once more.

Arsenal whistled.

“I knew he had a doll-face!” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He looks like a girl!”

“He does not!” Bart protested.

Kon kept silent as he watched them argue, his brow furrowed.

Robin had blue eyes.

Not blue like Clark’s or his own, a darker blue, night-sky blue.

And his nose was a little crooked, maybe he broke it at some point and didn’t set it right?

Robin’s face was nothing how he had imagined it and yet perfect in its own way.

He smiled.

The door to the house opened one last time as Robin exited with a quick: “Thanks Mrs. Mac! I’ll be back tonight!”

He was still wearing his washed-out jeans and thread-bare sneakers, but now his grey hoodie was replaced by a smaller red one and he was now sporting the customary sunglasses all members of the family sported.

Arsenal sneered.

“What’s the point of wearing those anymore, Baby Bird?” he asked, wrapping his normal arm around Robin’s shoulders. “We already know your pretty, pretty face.”

Robin’s lips pursed as he deepened his elbow onto Arsenal’s stomach, easily side-stepping the other teen.

“I don’t want to be caught in the surveillance cameras without them,” he replied, shaking his head. “Batman is going to be pissed enough already.”

“Aw, relax, Rob!” Bart laughed. “Wally’s distracting him and Dick for a while! We have a head start!”

 “And if anything goes wrong I’m here to fly us all out of the city before Batman can catch us?” Jaime added, his chest puffing with pride. “I’m sorry.  _When_  everything goes wrong.”

Robin’s shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this, Kon-El,” he said finally, turning to stare at the clone. “I hope they don’t get you into too much trouble?”

Kon shook his head.

“I wanted to come on my own free will,” he said bluntly. “Happy Birthday, Robin.”

Robin’s lips curled upwards.

“Thank you.”

Kon smiled back.

“Ma’ baked you a pie, but Impulse ate it on the way here,” he said after a pause, his hands on his pockets. “I’ll owe you a present for now.”

“I was hungry!” Bart complained, his cheeks puffing like a chipmunk.

Robin laughed a breath, soft laugh that seemed to be born from the deepest recesses of his chest.

“It’s okay,” he said finally, his smile still present. “Now, before you four buffoons attract more attention, let’s go to Big Belly’s?”

Kon arched an eyebrow, not sure what Big Belly’s was, but considering the loud cheers of victory Bart was spouting and the confident way Arsenal and Jaime agreed to the suggestion, it was a good place to go to.

“Rob! Rob! Open my present!!” Bart said, wrapping his arms around Robin’s back and depositing his misshapen package in the palm of his hand. “Jaime and I chose it! You like it don’t you? Of course you do!”

“Let me open it first, Bart,” Robin said, allowing the other teen to climb into his back and rest his chin on his bony shoulder. Jaime watched them with a grin and Arsenal tried to peek into the little package even before Robin was done opening.

Kon was already seeing the content with his X-ray vision, and yeah, he shouldn’t have, but he had never claimed to be a patient person, and he was already famous for his curiosity – or at least he was in Smallville, where there had been a rather unfortunate incident with Pa’s truck and a nest of baby chicks – so he didn’t really bother to hide his scrutiny.

Also, he had to know what Robin would like, and prepare to give him a special present himself.

He wanted to make Robin smile always, after all.

“A keychain?” Arsenal asked, scowling.

Sure enough, dangling between Robin’s thumb and index finger was a small keychain with a fat, round black and white bird with menacing blue eyes and a patch of red feathers on its face and chest.

Robin’s eyes widened.

“We thought a red breasted Robin would be a little too on the nose,” Jaime said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

“So we got you the Pokémon equivalent!” Bart beamed. “He even looks a little like you!”

 “He does?” Robin asked, his smile too terribly bright Kon thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Taillow is a badass!” the speedster assured.

“He does look like you,” Kon interrupted, his face close to Robin’s to examine his features.

The smaller teen’s cheeks went immediately red.

Arsenal scowl’s deepened.

“Let’s go before Batman finds us guys,” he said loudly, dragging Robin away from the others by the arm. “I want a Soder.”

Bart yelped as he fell face-first onto the lawn, Jaime helping him up with a sigh.

Kon’s face darkened.

Robin shook his head.

“Umm… Big Belly’s serves Zesti, Roy,” he said. “Not Soder.”

“What?”

With that same warmth he had come to appreciate as his Robin-is-near warmth pooling in his stomach and the cold Arsenal-is-being-stupid in his veins, Kon started to follow the two as they descended into a snipping argument over the virtues of their drinks of choice with loud comments from Bart and exasperated inputs by Jaime.

All in all, Kon-El was glad to have come, if only to make sure he was part of this day in Robin’s life.

And the fact he could now look at the dark skies in Kansas and know Robin’s eyes were that same, indomitable color. 


	3. Big Belly's

"You act different with people," Kon said as he took a sip of his second round of chocolate milkshake - that tasted like sugar, chemicals and all those things that Ma' complained about back in Kansas but tasted like something so good no wonder Clark kept a steady supply hidden in his fridge in Metropolis - and tried not to blink when Robin chocked on his Zesti.

"W-what?" the other teen asked, his cheeks flushing a bright red. "What do you mean?"

Kon shrugged his shoulders.

"When you are with Arsenal you act annoyed and don't hesitate to use violence against him," the clone explained.

Robin scowled.

"He calls me names..." he defended himself. "And he's not all that big himself."

"And when Bart rests in your lap, you pet his head," Kon continued, ignoring the soaring satisfaction bubbling inside of his chest at the thought that Robin seemed to so obviously dislike Arsenal. "Why?"

The other teen's body language turned shy.

"I'm usually not conscious about it," he admitted. "Mrs. Mac... Ah, the woman that opened the door to you all, she has a cat and the thing likes to curl in my lap when I'm reading."

Kon's scowl deepened.

"So when Bart does it..."

"I usually am so distracted I think it's Mrs. Mac's cat and I pet him," the teen finished, his shoulders slumped. "I guess I sound so lame now..."

The clone thought about it for a moment, eyes straying to where Bart, Jaime and Arsenal where engaged in a heated debate over an arcade machine with a colorful monkey with a red tie - he had refused to join them because he didn't like the look of the scowling monkey and the loud music, which was perfectly fine for someone with his powers – Kon couldn’t help but notice how tactile Bart was around people, the way he clung to Jaime’s back and played with his measly beard, his cheek tightly pressed against his own.

It was unsettling.

“He is rather… touchy,” he said finally, his shoulders shrugging.

“I think it’s because he’s young…” Robin said, shaking his head.

“Young?” Kon asked, turning once more to look at the other teen, an eyebrow rising.

Robin nodded in mid sip of his drink.

“He’s five.”

Kon’s eyes widened.

“Five?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat to try and look at the young speedster and find any indication as to such age.

There was none.

“He doesn’t look five to me,” Kon argued, his whole body a picture of disappointment.

Robin chuckled.

“And you don’t look six,” he argued back, his eyes set on his colorful cup.

Kon stared at Robin for a moment, his eyes searching for something he couldn’t name on that shy smile of his and, once more, feeling a simmering of anger under his skin at the fact that he couldn’t see the other teen’s eyes, that Batman had forbidden him from ever sharing the sight with others.

Then again, maybe like Arsenal had said, Robin was far too pretty for his own good, and his boss – or his _father,_ Kon still clung to that theory – was afraid of all the unwanted attention he would gather towards himself if people saw his naked, beautiful face up close.

It made sense to Kon, at the very least.

“No one has ever been younger than me,” he said at last, his own cheeks coloring in shame at such admission.

“Now someone is?” Robin asked hesitantly, his lips pursing in thought. “Though, I don’t think I should have told you that, it wasn’t my secret to tell after all.”

The clone blinked.

“It’s a secret?” he asked, leaning closer to Robin to convey the secrecy the way Wally and Nightwing did sometimes during their youth.

Robin fidgeted.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Bart has never made an issue of it but… then again, he never makes an issue out of anything. Maybe this was different?”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Kon tried at once, not liking the fact that Robin’s smile had suddenly disappeared and unable to blame Bart for it. “Maybe we can get even?”

Robin stared at him, his tongue wetting his lower lip.

“Get even…” he repeated, his voice a whisper. “How?”

Kon nodded in his best impression of Clark’s calm smile and hoping he didn’t look half as deranged as Arsenal once said he did.

“You tell me a secret and I’ll tell you one too,” he said, finding no flaw in the logic of his plan. “We will all have a breach of our secrecy and should be even with Bart.”

A dark eyebrow raised over robin’s sunglasses in disbelief.

Kon maintained his awkward smile, his fingers tightening a little over the rim of the table he was holding onto.

Robin sighed.

“My parents don’t know about me… about this, I mean,” he said finally, gesturing with his Zetsi at the group. “They have to travel a lot because of work and I took advantage of that to join Batman.”

The clone listened intently, his fingers relaxing against the wood of the table when the other boy’s lips curled downwards.

“Sometimes I wish I could tell them and have their blessing but…” he shook his head. “I know they would make me stop and I am so ashamed to admit if  I was to choose between the mission and my parent’s approval… I…”

“You wouldn’t choose them?” the clone finished for him, his eyes wide.

Robin nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents! I would give my life for them without a second thought,” he added. “But, the good I can do as Robin… I don’t think I’d be able to give this up if my parents ordered it.”

Kon, slowly, carefully, wrapped his hand around the other teen’s, marveling at how impossibly _small_ that hand looked against his own and wondering whether Clark thought the same whenever he and Batman held hands.

… but then he imagined Clark and Batman holding hands and realized how impossible that would be.

As he allowed his thumb to caress the back of Robin’s hand, he thought about all he had heard and the weight it must mean on his friend’s shoulders to hold such secret.

He didn’t have any parents of his own – unless he counted Clark who would freak out on him and well, Luthor who… Kon didn’t think it would be a good idea – but he had seen how important their parents were to the people like Nightwing and Kaldur, who had lost them, and how sometimes Wonder Girl would whisper soft _: ‘I know, I love you too, Mom,’_ into her phone the same way Robin had done earlier that day.

Parents were important then.

Therefore, Robin’s secret was important. Something really deep and personal and only a secret of the same caliber would only suffice in their exchange.

He _did_ have a secret that in his mind weighted him down as much as Robin’s seemed to. But he had told himself he shouldn’t involve others in things that were just his own or…

He looked at Robin’s torn face.

He took a deep breath.

“M’gann and I broke things up because… because she tried to enter my mind without my permission and… change something,” he admitted, forcing the words to form in his lips, his lungs to give them sound and his hand from stop from clenching. “I felt betrayed and angry, like I wanted to hurt her, make her feel the same fain I felt, so before I could hurt her for real I…”

“You left for Kansas…” Robin whispered, his eyes so impossible wide the tips of his black eyelashes peeked over the rim of his glasses. “Kon, that’s… you should have told someone! I mean!”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” he interrupted, his eyes lowering to their still entwined hands. “I wasn’t really hurt, not physically and…”

“She violated you!” Robin said ardently, his fingers now tightening against Kon’s. “For all intents and purposes she r-… she took advantage of you!”

“You need to keep this a secret!” Kon urged, noticing how Robin’s cheeks were a deep red and his heart was beating so fast, then how come his hands were shaking too?

Robin was, somehow, angry.

“But she could have hurt you!” he argued. “Did you tell anyone? Does Superman know? Martian Manhunter?”

“Clark knows… he was the one to take me to Kansas after all,” the clone soothed. “And M’gann told her uncle after she had that accident with Kaldur… she’s training to control the impulses now.”

Robin nodded, his cheeks losing some redness.

“What about your mind?” he asked, leaning forward so he could peer into Kon’s eyes, most likely. “Did you have a check up with another Mind Adept afterwards? Search for some left-over damage?”

Kon’s scowl deepened more than usual.

“I don’t like to have my mind prodded,” he said. “Makes me feel dirty.”

“But you could have been hurt!” Robin insisted. “I can’t believe this… Batman will…”

“Batman can’t know!” Kon interrupted again. “You promised, remember? This has to stay a secret between you and me.”

“But…”

“Please!”

Robin’s teeth sank on his bottom lip, the struggle between his friendship and the loyalty he had to Batman clear on his expressive – if ever hidden – face.

“I feel your secret is far more important than mine, “ he said at last.

Kon felt himself sag in relief, and he wondered how many emotions he was going to experience today and whether he could be able to prevent himself from lashing out should he have to.

“Your secret is really big too…” he tried to sooth again, his voice soft.

Robin smiled weakly, fishing in the pocket of his hoodie for a pen as his other hand released Kon’s and reached for one of the restaurant’s thin paper napkins.

Kon instantly missed the feeling of warmth of Robin’s skin on his own but remained  silent as he watched the other teen hesitate, then slowly scribble a single, precise line on his napkin and carefully fold it into a tiny square before laying it on the center of his outstretched palm.

“What’s this?” Kon asked, eyeing the piece of paper in his hand.

“Open it when you are alone,” Robin whispered, his cheeks once more red. “Batman is gonna kill me for this…”

“Kill is not the word I would use,” a voice called from behind them at the same time as each felt a powerful hand land on their shoulder and a shocked yelp – Bart’s – echoed around the suddenly too silent restaurant.

Kon could hear how Robin’s hear faltered for a millisecond as they turned around, only to find that the owner of such powerful hand was none other than Clark himself, dressed in full Superman regalia with a frown on his face – that he had obviously, to Kon at least, learned from Pa’ – showing the full extent of his disappointment while The Flash was dragging Bart away by the ear, Green Arrow was holding a struggling Arsenal and Black Canary was glaring at an apologetic Jaime, her arms crossed over her chest.

And, of course, behind the whole mayhem that had descended over them, was Batman.

No wonder the civilians had gone so quiet.

“We wanted to celebrate Robin’s birthday! We are the good guys!” Bart cried as his future grandfather apologized over and over to Batman.

The hold on Kon’s shoulder relaxed minutely, only enough for him to notice.

“Is that true, Kon-El?” Clark asked, his disappointed frown melting into a hopeful mix of awe, trepidation and pride.

Kon nodded.

“You know the rules, Robin,” Batman growled, making the boy flinch and then lower his head in shame.

“I know,” the boy replied. “I’m sorry.”

Kon felt something inside of him tighten at the tone of Robin’s voice, the defeat of his posture.

But it was Arsenal who, while still struggling with his former mentor, managed to turn the full center of his angry glaring at Batman himself.

“We heard Robin has shitty parents who wouldn’t be home on their own son’s birthday, and we came over to make sure he didn’t have to spend the day alone!” he spat visciously, loudly. “He had nothing to do with this!”

“But I didn’t kick you out of the city when I should have, Roy!” Robin protested, struggling against Clark’s massive hand. “I’m at fault too!”

All adults looked at eachother.

“Let’s go to HQ Robin,” Batman said with a sigh. “Nightwing has been looking for you all afternoon.”

Robin nodded, his face betraying his confusion as he was finally released.

“Nightwing?” he asked, tilting his head in that was that was so endearing it made Kon’s mouth twitch.

Batman nodded, his scowl awkward.

“Him and A have been preparing something for you all week.”

“A?” Robin blinked. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!”

Batman nodded and placed a hesitant hand – Kon never understood why Batman had no issue touching Nightwing when he was a kid but held himself back with his third Robin, it was something Clark never wanted to talk about – on his shoulder to guide him out.

Before they reached the door, though, Robin stopped himself, turned around and gave his friends a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you so much, guys,” he said, fingering his keychain. “It was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Bart stopped his whining and straightened, saluting Robin with a big grin.

Jaime smiled as well, a little more apprehensive.

Arsenal sighed.

“Whenever you want, gorgeous!” he catcalled, prompting his former mentor to whack him in the back of the head as Batman growled and Robin squeaked in shock.

Kon growled as well, his mood souring.

Robin locked their gazes last.

“Thanks for everything, Kon,” he said softly.

He nodded.

“Thanks to you, Robin,” he said, his fingers still holding his secret piece of paper between them.

Robin nodded and Kon was sure he had something else to say, but Batman was pulling him away, his scowl set on Arsenal’s still leering face.

“Well, I’m taking Jaime home,” Canary said, shaking her head. “Care for a ride, Olie?”

Green Arrow nodded.

“Sure thing,” he said cheerfully, adjusting his grip so he was now wrapping a companionable arm around Arsenal’s shoulders. “And along the way you two can tell us how you managed to sneak into Gotham undetected.”

Flash shook his head.

“Let’s go too, Bart,” he said, waving goodbye to his companions as he sped away.

Only Clark and Kon remained then.

Silent.

“Did you really…” Clark started, clearing his throat. “Are Robin’s parents really… bad?”

Kon nodded.

“Robin says they are never around,” he said, shaking his head. “But he loves them a lot.”

“I bet,” Clark sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll take you back to Smallville now, you’ll spend some time without privileges, I’m afraid.”

“Okay…” Kon agreed, he didn’t really mind spending a few days in Kansas and he was sure Ma’ and Pa’ would understand his plight and let him leave without Clark really knowing – or minding, if the smile Clark was fighting was any indication.

The clone felt Superman’s arms around his own as the two of them rose in the air and yeah, he wasn’t alone as he would have wanted, but his curiosity was far too powerful – more than he would have liked to admit – and Clark’s attention was on the sky anyways.

He unfolded his little paper square.

… and promptly felt his world lose focus for a moment.

… because there, in Robin’s precise, neat handwriting was a single line of text, a single declaration that made everything inside of Kon drop and rise and burst in molten heat and colorful, manic energy.

He heard Clark curse – something he seldom did – as he released a bight beam of heat from his eyes and his hands tightened against his chest.

He didn’t care.

Robin’s message was still ringing in his head.

‘MY NAME IS TIMOTHY DRAKE. PLEASE CALL ME TIM.’

Kon felt his heart soar.


	4. Interlude: Advice

Kon spent the first week of his punishment in a daze that seemed to keep his usually sullen disposition far more silent and a small smile curling his lips sporadically only to the utter shock of Ma’ and Pa’.

Clark had grumbled a little as he left him there, explaining the situation quickly and promising to return as soon as he managed to come up with an explanation and a few days of vacation back in Metropolis.

Kon had barely noticed.

“Are you alright, Kon dear?” Ma’ asked whenever she caught him over-feeding the chicken or simply plowing the fields with his bare hands in zigzagging, irregular patterns that he would need to redo if the Kent’s ever planned on harvesting that season. 

Kon had only nodded at her, unable to form a coherent response when there was only one word echoing in his head.

Tim, Tim, Tim, Timtimtimtimtimtim…

And the clone wasn’t as stupid as his team-mates were to believe, he could tell something was definitely different with the way Tim seemed to consume his every thought, the way he felt he could burst from the inside out whenever the other teen smiled at him.

It was, in a way, how he had once felt for M’gann, but also only comparable the way a broken piece of colored glass could resemble a carefully cut jewel. He could understand the similarities in the most basic, shallow way, but all comparisons died inside of him with a single utterance of Robin’s name.

Tim…

He smiled foolishly to himself as he allowed his body to land on the grass, his eyes set on the quickly darkening sky.

Tim’s eyes were that color.

Yet, somehow, the sky itself palled in comparison.

He felt his skin warm  up, especially as the scent of burning tobacco reached his nose and the sound of heavy footsteps on gravel finally became clear to his ears.

He sat up just as Pa’ let himself fall onto the grass by his side, his pipe in his hand and a fond smile on his aging face.

“You know,” he said as he took a drag. “Clark used to have that same dopey smile when he was around your age. Drove Martha up the walls he did.”

Kon blinked, trying to imagine Clark’s dopey smile reflected on his own face.

“Why was he… smiling?” he asked, feeling dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Was there something wrong with him?

Was he sick?

Pa’ chuckled.

“Her name was Lana,” he said with a shrug. “They were the best of friends when they were kids, Clark and her.”

Kon instantly perked up.

“Tim is my friend,” he said, leaning forwards. “He is my best friend.”

Pa’ laughed out loud this time, his eyes wrinkling with mirth.

“That Tim of yours is the boy you got in trouble for in Gotham?” he asked, one of his rough hands coming to rest on Kon’s shoulder gently. “He must be something else.”

Kon felt his skin burning.

“He is,” he said, resolute. “I like it when he smiles.”

“I bet you do, son,” the old man said, his voice wistful. “And I’m sure he smiles a lot when you are around?”

Kon nodded eagerly, his lips twitching upwards.

“He does and it makes me feel like I can fly just like Clark,” he paused. “But then Arsenal will show up and he will say something dirty and Tim will stop smiling and go fight with him. I hate him.”

Pa’ raised an eyebrow.

“Is Arsenal another one of your friends?” he asked.

Kon shook his head, his mood souring.

“No, not mine,” he replied, feeling how his shoulders slumped. “But he is Tim’s friend.”

“Ah,” Pa’ said, nodding. “Tim has more friends, then…”

“He does,” Kon assured. “I can’t blame them, he is the best friend ever, so it’s natural he is other people’s best friend too.”

“And you want to be Tim’s best friend then, just like he is yours.”

The teen nodded, his eyes wide. No wonder Clark decided this was a good place for him. Pa’ must have some mental powers of his own, if he could be so accurate.

He knew exactly how to put into words the main core of Kon’s conflicts.

“How… How do I become Tim’s best friend?”  he asked, feeling his throat clench around the words. “He is… nice. And sweet. He strokes Bart’s hair whenever he wants to cuddle and he speaks in other languages with Jaime when he is stressed. He even helped Wonder Girl with her homework once.”

Pa’ took another drag from his pipe, silent.

“It sounds like your friend has a lot of love to give,” he surmised with a smile. “And you want to monopolize his attention.”

Kon’s eyes widened.

“I don’t mean to…”

“Son,” Pa’ interrupted with a soft pat on his shoulder. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be special in someone’s eyes. It’s part of being human.”

The clone pouted.

Pa’s smile widened.

“I remember I was like that when I was young, myself,” he said. “I wanted to be Martha’s one and only.”

Kon swallowed loudly.

“How did you do it?” he asked, his hands clenching and unclenching in the grass so hard he thought he was about to part the earth beneath him in two. “How did you become Ma’s one and only?”

Pa’ laughed, shaking his head as if the memory itself was embarrassing and yet precious.

“I did many things, really, embarrassing things, stupid things, crazy things,” he began. “I made a fool of myself and then some, if only to probe to her I was serious about her.”

Kon closed his eyes then, allowing Pa’s comforting words to surround him, to drown him, to penetrate every single pore of his conscience as he absorbed the stories and learned from Pa’s advice.

Pa’ and Ma’ had sworn to be together until death did them apart and then maybe beyond that.

And that was exactly what he wanted for Tim and himself.

 


	5. Apples

The moment of truth came for Kon-El that same summer-warm week when he heard a small ‘foop!’ on the house’s driveway and Clark’s ridiculously loud footsteps on the gravel approach the backyard and, consequently, the small kitchen where Ma’ had decided he should spend is ‘weekend of unending punishment and discipline’ as she decided to call it.

He guessed Clark had called ahead that morning and the Kents decided to make him think he had been disciplined as he expected.

He wasn’t sure what to say, and therefore, he said nothing.

“Ah, here you are!” Clark exclaimed with a bright smile as he poked his head inside the room, his glassed precariously perched on his nose, his shirt stretching tightly over his muscles, his hair in disarray.

Miss Lane was obviously trying to dress him up again.

“I am,” Kon nodded, still unable to pick up the social cues that Clark seemed so comfortable with.

The older man winced for a millisecond before sighing and giving his younger clone a small smile of fond exasperation.

“Pa’ told me you’ve been distracted lately,” he said as he pulled out a chair and patted the back of it so Kon knew he was expected to sit. “And I saw the way you plowed the fields.”

Kon felt his cheeks flush.

“I… I am distracted, yes,” he admitted, his eyes downcast as he sat down before his mentor. “Pa’ told me it was normal, though, that you had been distracted at my age too.”

He heard, more than saw, Clark’s awkward intake of breath and there was suddenly another chair in front of his own and a warm hand on his knee.

“So that’s what this is about,” he said finally, warmth and something Kon couldn’t actually place in his voice. “No wonder.”

“I’m sorry,” Kon whispered, his lips pursed, his eyes still downcast.

Clark shook his head.

“Ma’ said she wants to bake another pie…” he said, his pant patting his knee. “Help me peel the apples?”

Kon raised his eyes, clearly confused.

“The apples explode in my hands,” he said, tilting his head. “She usually doesn’t let me handle them.”

Clark’s smile grew warmer still, bright like the sun.

“I’ll teach you how to hold them.”

And so, Kon found himself a few hours later covered in apple mush and skin, his cheeks flushed a deep red and scorch marks all over the once pristine kitchen floor.

Ma’ was going to kill them.

At least the apple had stopped imploding on him by the two hour mark and now he could hold the knife without bending the handle, and sure, Clark had laughed his ass at him – the traitor – but he was a patient teacher and an encouraging friend.

Kon liked to imagine this was what it felt like to have a dad.

He smiled to himself.

No wonder Tim was so worried about his parents finding out about his hero-ing (as Bart called it) if having a dad felt this good, he wouldn’t want them hurt either.

The teen blinked.

Did Bart miss his Dad then? Because he had one, for sure – even if the man was currently a fetus inside The Flash’s wife.

… was that why the speedster was so tactile all the time? He was after all a five year old - Tim said so, he had to be right - and all alone. And yes, Kon was only six years old himself, but he was pulled out of the tube with a teenager’s mind, and Bart was far too childish and…

He felt bad for the boy.

Clark handed him another apple, his fingers carefully depositing the fruit in his outstretched hand.

Kon instantly started to peel, his teeth sinking onto his bottom lip.

He guessed he could share Tim’s affections with Bart then, because Kon had a dad – of sorts – in Clark and Bart was all alone and he was older, so he _had_ to be the mature one that could actually share Tim’s amazing brand of comfort with him.

Tim would most likely agree with his reasoning.

Even be proud of him.

And also, his mind supplied as he handed the now peeled apple back to Clark for him to chop into small pieces, Bart didn’t monopolize Tim’s attention like Kon would fear. He spent most of his time with Jaime, hanging from Jaime’s back and holding onto Jaime’s hand.

He blinked.

Did that mean…

“Clark?” Kon asked, looking up from his work as his mentor took another apple to peel.

“Hm?” Clark asked, not looking up himself.

“What happens when a boy likes to be with another boy more than his best friend?”

Clark shook his head, his lips holding an amused smile.

“That would mean the boy is a homose-…”

The two of them were instantly showered in apple pieces when Clark’s hand tightened over his handy-work.

“W-what?!” the older man gapped.

Kon wiped the mess from his cheek with a hand, his scowl returning.

“What happens when a boy likes to be with another boy more than his best friend?” he asked once more, not liking the way the apple juice was clinging to his shirt.  

“Kon…” Clark said, his eyes wide and his cheeks oddly coloring a deep red. “Is this… about Tim?”

Kon’s scowl lessened as he nodded.

At least Clark was perceptive.

It didn’t make sense to him, how Bart would prefer Jaime’s company to Tim’s, all things considered. Tim was smarter than Jaime, he was far more patient and definitely more comforting. His eyes were a more beautiful shade and his hands slender, longer.

Also Tim was a better friend and a better confidant than Jaime – Kon was sure Jaime didn’t know Bart’s real age, or he wouldn’t treat him like he did – and knew about loss and family better than Jaime ever would.

All in all, Tim was a better option than Jaime for Bart to want to spend time with.

Tim was the better choice.

So, why would Bart choose to spend his time with Jaime then?

Clark seemed to be struggling with his answer, struggling with how to organize his thoughts and Kon felt even more ratified by his struggles. Maybe Clark didn’t understand it himself? Maybe Bart was doing something in the wrong and Clark felt his role as Superman was to guide him to seek Tim out more?

It would mean Kon would have to share Tim more and… he didn’t really like that.

Finally, Clark took a deep breath, his hands trembling, his face on fire.

He coughed a little.

“Kon,” he began awkwardly. “You know what happens when a man and a woman really like eachother, right?”

Kon blinked.

“You mean, how they copulate in order to reproduce?” He asked, tilting his head. What did that have to do with anything? “I was already educated in basic human reproduction habits back in Cadmus.”

Clark’s red cheeks started turning a little bit… purple-ish.

He nodded.

Kon was seriously confused now.

“Well, sometimes,” Clark coughed. “Sometimes a man realizes he likes another man the same way, that he loves that other man the same way a man can love a woman.”

“But they would not be able to copulate and reproduce,” Kon interrupted, his lips pursed stubbornly. “Wouldn’t that be illogical?”

Clark seemed to struggle even more with his questions now, considering the way he was completely purple now.

“B-but… well… reproduction is not the main goal of c-cop… umm… se… that!” he said, his voice breaking over and over again. “I guess it’s more about… loving someone and… ah… wanting to spend the rest of your life with that person…”

Kon tilted his head.

“So, men who love other men don’t copulate?”

“Stop saying c-copu—that!” Clark interrupted, his hands reaching to squeeze Kon’s violently.

Kon’s eyes widened.

“Is it a bad word?”  he asked. Ma’ had told him over and over to be respectful of his family, and Clark being his sorta-sometimes-kinda dad, well, he was the epitome of family.

Clark shook his head.

“It’s… not… but… it’s something really personal,” he said, clearing his throat. “The point is, Kon, that even if there is no reproduction, men and women sometimes come to love people of their own gender and it’s something perfectly okay, something natural, okay?”

Kon nodded, he understood the point, and of course he didn’t see anything wrong with a man wanting to love another man, was Clark afraid he would?

Still he didn’t see how the whole explanation pertained to his question.

Unless…

“Is it more important than a best friend? This love?”  he asked, tilting his head, eyes locked with Clark’s. “Is that why a boy would want to spend more time with another boy?”

Clark’s shoulders slumped, relief evident in every inch of his expressive face.

“Yes! Think of it as…” he hesitated for a moment, before his blue eyes lit up. “Think of it like the bond your friends Wally and Artemis had?”

And suddenly Kon understood.

Wally and Artemis had the closest of bonds, they were always together, they shared an intimacy that no one else shared with them, and he knew for a fact Artemis was not Wally’s best friend, that was Nightwing, had always been Nightwing.

So, even if Tim was a better friend than Jaime, a better human than Jaime, Bart would rather spend time with him because…

Bart and Jaime were a couple like Wally and Artemis?

It made sense then.

“I get it now,” he said, noting with satisfaction how Clark seemed to relax at once, and how his smile returned to his face. “My Cadmus’ education didn’t cover such possibility, but it makes sense.”

“Good,” Clark said awkwardly, a piece of apple still stuck to his forehead.

They lapsed into silence once more as Kon took another apple from the bag and started peeling it, completely focusing on his strength and how much pressure he put on the delicate fruit.

Clark did the same, his own hands still a little shaky.

A few minutes passed.

“Kon-El?” Clark said suddenly, his eyes misty, worried.

Kon looked up, an eyebrow raised.

Clark shuffled a little in his chair, clearly uncomfortable yet determined to say his piece.

“I- I just want you to know that…” he swallowed thickly. “I want you to know that homosexuality is perfectly okay and no one should ever judge another if they decide that… well…”

“I know,” Kon said, his head tilting to the side once more.

“And Ma’ and Pa’ think the same, ok?” Clark continued, his eagerness showing.

“Okay,” Kon nodded, his lips pursed in confusion.

Clark sighed in relief, his smile bright.

“I just wanted you to know,” he said, suddenly mindless of the tension he himself had raised in the room.

“I know now,” Kon nodded again, eyes going back to his apple. “Thanks, Clark.”

Clark chuckled.

“You are welcome, kid,” he said, and went back to peeling.

Kon’s eyes widened.

“Oh, by the way,” he prompted, stopping on his work now that he remembered something he had been meaning to ask Clark. “I was wondering if it was okay for me to go and see a Mind Adept? I wanted to get checked, see if my mind is okay?”

Clark’s hand clenched around his apple once again, juice and mush and peelings flying everywhere.

“What?!”

Kon blinked at him.

“Well, Tim said it would be a good idea for me to get checked,” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Tim… suggested it?” Clark asked, disbelief clear in his voice. Disbelief and something really akin to anger, really, something that Kon wasn’t sure he liked.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I told him what happened with M… last year and he insisted I should get checked, see if there was no leftover damage. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Clark’s shoulders slumped, his eyes filling with understanding and a little bit of eagerness.

“Oh, I see,” he whispered. “Ah, I mean! Sure, I can ask if someone can see you. I was actually waiting for you to ask me and…”

He swallowed.

“I’m glad Tim suggested it,” he finished with his usual awkward smile. He had been wearing that smile a lot around Kon lately.

Maybe it was the heat?

Kon nodded.

“Tim is super intelligent,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “And he is really observant. If he says I should get checked I think he means it for my own good, right?”

“Of course,” Clark agreed, as if it there was something he knew that Kon didn’t, something amusing and terribly sweet. “I’m sure Tim only has your best interest at heart.”

Kon smiled a little himself.

“Yes, he is my best friend.”

Clark wanted to say something more, Kon was sure, and he would have liked to know what it was, but they were both startled into pulverizing their respective apples with their hands by the shrieking of a casserole crashing onto the linoleum floor and Ma’s voice calling:

“Oh my goodness! What happened here!” she said in dismay. “My apples! Oh, dear! My FLOOR!”

“Ma’!” Clark said quickly, standing up and waving his mush incrusted hands in the air. “It’s not like it seems! Kon-El and I…”

“Oh no!” Ma’ cried. “Now I won’t have enough apples to bake a pie for that poor boy!”

 “But-!”

 “Tim won’t get his pie?” Kon said in disappointment, his eyes glowing. “But I promised him…”

Clark yelped, his hands quickly grasping Kon’s sticky shoulders and dragging him to the backyard as fast as he could without actually crashing through the walls.

“You two will be replacing the flooring, Clark!” Ma’ bellowed from the window. “And don’t believe for a second I cannot pull you over my knee anymore, young man!”

Kon hung from Clark’s arms – as it was becoming his default whenever he became too upset.

Clark simply sighed and continued to mutter under his breath about how easy Bruce – whoever that was – made it all look so much easier than this.

 


	6. Glimpses.

Apparently, Clark had been far more eager to get Kon checked than Kon had previously assumed, because as soon as they were done cleaning up Ma's kitchen and changing the floors into brand-new, fire retardant tiles - that Ma' had eyed for just a moment before instructing Clark to thank 'that sweet Bruce boy' for her - he was back in Clark's arms and on his way to the mystical magical lair of Madame Xanadu.

… that honestly wasn’t as impressive as he had once imagined, considering it mostly looked like a small corner-shop in the middle of a city.

Clark had suggested they meet with Dr. Fate at first, him being a more active member of the League and a trusted ally, but Kon had quickly expressed his hesitation, since Dr. Fate had once been Zatanna's dad and he didn't feel he'd be able to concentrate around the man knowing he was prisoner of whatever entity the helmet of Fate held.

Not since he was finally coming onto the whole ‘I have a dad too now’ idea and it, somehow, made him empathize with his former team mate.

Clark had rubbed at the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable at the reminder, before explaining that there was another alternative but that he would have to be very respectful and never try to mention Madame Xanadu’s actual age.

"Ah, I knew you would come to me, dear Kon son of El." Madame greeted with a smile, ushering Kon and Clark in with a small wave of her hand. "Tea?"

Kon proceeded to ignore the way Clark politely accepted and explained their situation to Xanadu, mostly entertaining himself with the mess that was Madame's parlor, a mix of silks and wools and colors that seemed to blend with the shadows and threaten to swallow him whole.

Maybe Dr. Fate wouldn't have been as bad an option?

"Oh, cease such treacherous thoughts, youngest El!" Madame Xanadu scolded as she draped herself dramatically on her chair. "There is no way that old goat would be able to give you a gift such as the one I have in store for you."

Kon blinked, his cheeks coloring - not as red as Clark's, at the very least, but red nonetheless - as he realized that, of course a mind adept would be able to read his thoughts.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, none of that, dearest," she said, shaking her head fondly. "I am not as callous as the Martians in my ventures and the comparison, though subconscious, still hurts. I can only interpret thoughts that are directed or intrinsically about me."

Clark laid a careful hand on his shoulder, his support clear.

Kon nodded.

"I'm sorry?" He said, approaching Madame Xanadu.

She smiled at him, ruby red lips curling fondly.

"As I said, do not fret, young El," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "It will be my honor to touch a fated mind such as your own."

"A… fated mind, Madame?" Clark said, his brows furrowing.

Madame's eyes glinted preternaturally.

"I call your son fated because that is what he is, Superman," she replied simply, her hand reaching to hold Kon's and rest it over her table, forcing the teen to sit on a plush chair in front of her. "The pull of destiny is strong in your blood, but particularly the strongest in your child. You should consider yourselves blessed."

"Blessed..." Clark parroted.

"Destiny?" Kon asked, confused. "I'm a clone, a copy. I don't think I have much destiny to speak of..."

"Nonsense," Madame said, her smile gentle. "All souls have a destiny, young one."

Clark coughed uncomfortably.

"Madame, while I appreciate the goodwill towards Superboy I must ask that you..."

"Check his mind for lingering damage, I know," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I'm in the process right now, Superman, no need to be rude. I was merely making small talk so the young man would not be bored."

Clark flushed again.

Kon felt himself smile, while her words were confusing, he found he was starting to like Madame Xanadu’s directness, she reminded him of Ma’ a little.

"Everything okay?" he asked, if only to spare his mentor/sorta-dad further embarrassment.

"Everything seems to be in order so far," Xanadu assured. "There is some sign of struggle, most likely from when you forced that girl from your mind, but so far it seems to be healing nicely. You have quite a strong mental protection."

Kon nodded, feeling a sort of relief he hadn't been aware he was in need of.

"But… Kon-El will be okay?" Clark hesitated, his smile not as bright. "Is there a way to… protect him from… further intrusions?"

Xanadu shook her head, her eyes fond.

“I see you have considered this issue more than your peers imagined, Superman,” she said, her fingers tracing the lines on the palm of Kon’s hand. “Do not fret for your child, my friend. The tides of fate have entwined in the fabric of the universe in his favor. He shall not suffer unnecessarily.”

"Fate..." Kon trailed off. "Fate wanted her to hurt me?"

"Oh, no no no!" Xanadu said quickly, her eyes wide in horror. "Nothing as terrible as that, dear boy, oh no."

Clark’s hand on his shoulder tensed, and Kon could tell he was quickly losing his legendary patience. Kon felt... safe, with that hand on him.

"The tendrils of fate are entwined yet mobile, Kon-El," Xanadu tried to explain. “Yes, there will be trials in your path, I can tell, but all those falls will only lead to better things, all the times you feel yourself fail will be times when opportunity and fortune will appear before you.”

Kon felt he could understand a little. Apparently it was a part of his fate that  M'gann would betray him, to hurt him, it was his fate that had ruined his life.

Yet that same fate, that same hurt had been the trigger that allowed him and Clark to become close, had allowed him to meet Ma' and Pa'. To find a home, and a family and people he could feel he could call friends…

… Tim.

He swallowed.

Madame Xanadu let out a soft sigh, both hands reaching to cradle Kon's.

"You honestly don't know how blessed you are, you poor boy," she whispered. “I feel I am breaching a taboo of some sort by giving you this knowledge, but…”

Her eyes grew fierce, her hands tight.

"You are what we call a Universal Constant. In every universe of the multiverse, there is a Kon-El in one way or another,” she said finally, her lips quirking. “I can see how the threads that connect you to the source of the multiverse are kind, how they want your happiness over all things, which is why I want to believe the keep you so close to those who will always support you.”

Clark's hand on his shoulder relaxed a little.

"People… constant… Always?" he asked, shocked.

Xanadu raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Always, Superman," she simpered. "If there is a Superboy in any universe, he will have contact with a version of you, he will meet your circles and find a parental figure among them.”

Xanadu’s hands on Kon’s grew tender again.

“By all the gods, the universe has even paired you off with that little Robin boy in every universe,” she joked.

Kon sat straighter in his chair.

"Robin and I?" he asked, his voice gaining eagerness. "We are always together?"

Xanadu nodded.

"Well, yes," she said. "From all the universes I've glimpsed upon, if there is a young man who can be identified as the Superboy, he and Robin are always together... Always a clone of the Superman, always the same young Robin."

"Can I see?" Kon interrupted, his eyes wide, his hand, still enveloped by Madame Xanadu, trembled.

Superman opened his mouth, clearly unsure.

The woman smiled again.

"If you wish to," she nodded. “It will provide a good distraction while I apply some more protection to your mental shields, if only for your father’s peace of mind. Just remember that you are nothing but an observer. You will not be able to touch, you will not be heard or see..."

"Yes, I understand."

Clark definitely had something to say about the whole ordeal, about universe jumping and the horrors that Kon-El might encounter.

However, before he could offer a warning, a rebuttal, a nervous ‘I am not Kon-El’s father!’, before he could even utter Kon's name, Madame Xanadu had already waved her fingers in the air, sparkles dancing between her fingertips, and the clone was enveloped by a warm, white light.

_When he was finally able to open his eyes he was standing in a beach, the wind was cool and the weather perfect for what his former team called a ‘day off exercise’._

_Bart ran past him, through him, young and cheerful and a little bit deranged, his feet invisible with the speed he was using, his torso pale and skinny in his ridiculous swimming shorts._

_A curvy blond haired girl in a bikini – a little girl, what was she? Fourteen? -  ran after him, her eyes wide as she examined the path he was leaving behind on the sand._

_“He’s actually doing it!” she gasped. “He’s making glass!”_

_“No way!” another girl, also so small and innocent, also a blond, said, as she approached as well, her hand reaching for the melting sand. “You’re right, Cissy! Guys! Check this out!”_

_Kon followed her line of sight, her waving arm and found himself staring…_

_At himself._

_His same blue eyes, his same black hair, though this Kon’s was longer, curly, it made him wonder if his own hair would curl if he let it grow, the same shape of his chin - rounder than Clark’s, pointier than Luthor’s, - this him even had pierced the same ear Kon had, only this one was wearing a gold ring on it._

_Also, he was a lot younger than Kon himself, a lot shorter, skinnier._

_“Way! I win, bro!” his younger, skinnier self cackled, his grin wide, his eyes light as he floated – he floated, he could actually fly – over another small teen in a hoodie and shorts who was busily typing on a laptop, his dark hair and dark sunglasses covering most of his round face._

_Kon felt his heart skip a beat._

_Tim looked up at the young Superboy, his eyes clear in their disbelief._

_“I don’t remember ever betting with you,” he said teasingly. “Especially over something like Bart’s speed.”_

_Kon’s other self pouted, his arms reaching to wrap around Tim’s neck._

_“What? Come on!” he whined. “You said you’d come to the beach with us if Bart could melt the sand with his feet!”_

_“And here I am, am I not?” Tim replied, shaking his head._

_“No? You are sitting under a stupid umbrella like one of those old movie ladies while we have fun!” Younger Superboy scowled. “At least take your hoodie off and try to tan away all the dreadful bat paleness, bro! Let the girls see your bodacious buff!”_

_Tim stared at his younger self with a raised eyebrow, despite the fondness in his eyes._

_Superboy reacted fast then, faster and with more assurance than Kon felt he would ever be able to achieve – yes, Kon was a little jealous of this younger, flying, far more confident counterpart of his – and he wrapped Tim in his arms, holding him tight, hiding his face on Tim’s neck as if to keep himself strong with the sound of Tim’s quickening pulse._

_“I’m glad you could come, bro,”_

_Tim’s smile was small, shy, the same smile Kon’s Tim had around him._

_His hands covered Superboy’s._

_“Yeah,” he said, his forehead resting on top of Superboy’s hair. “Thanks.”_

Madame Xanadu rested a hand on Kon’s shoulder, smiling at him, pulling him from the scene.

“Ready for another jump?”  she asked, her eyes sparkling with her power.

Kon nodded, muted, unsure.

This alternate version of him and Tim seemed to be the best of friends, the way they seemed to understand eachother, how comforted Tim seemed to be while in this Superboy’s arms…

… then again, this Superboy was confident, loud, a complete opposite of Kon himself.

This Superboy could fly while he could not.

He swallowed, wondering if he would be adequate to make his Tim smile like that.

A new flash of light blinded him.

_This time there was an explosion, by the time he came to._

_What looked like humanoid-looking robots were swarming around a group of teenagers._

_Bart was there, once again, as was the blond girl Kon was starting to identify as Wonder Girl though her costume looked far too revealing for his tastes… a lot uncomfortable too._

_And there, right in the middle of the group… were Tim and Superboy._

_A little bit older than himself and Kon’s Tim, a little bit more jagged, battle worn, dirty._

_“What now?” Superboy hissed, his back to Tim, his eyes glinting red. “You are the brains here, kid.”_

_“Shut up, and don’t call me that, I’m way older than you.” Tim hissed back. “I need you to float ten feet above keeping your body horizontal and your hands outstretched.”_

_“What?” Superboy yelled, eyes wide._

_“Stop flirting and start acting,” Wonder Girl snapped,– yeah, Kon was definitely sure this was Wonder Girl – her lasso snapping like a whip._

_“Do it!” Tim protested at the same time as Superboy growled: “Red’s not my type.”_

_Kon watched them fight, all coordinated but rough at the edges, they reminded him of the way his former team – the team with Nightwing and Wally and Artemis and… M’gann – used to fight, how they would sometimes turn back to make sure the others would still be behind them, all okay._

_Superboy finally did as told, his eyes darting back and forth nervously, his muscles tensing, his shoulders squared._

_Tim looked at Bart, his smile crooked, sad, before the other teen grabbed him by the waist and started spinning, faster and faster, slowly releasing him until the smaller teen was flying in the air, his red and black uniform bright under the sun and the beams of lasers._

_Then… he was falling._

_“Red!” Wonder Girl cried in shock._

_Superboy managed to look startled for just a second before Tim’s foot was on his head, his hands grasping Superboy’s outstretched ones to balance himself, no, to propel himself over the hordes of robots and into an innocuous-looking machine innocently humming behind a rock._

_With a cry of excitement – adrenaline and quick-wit and a little cockiness Kon imagined would look in his Tim’s younger face – he plunged a batarang on the thing, shielding his eyes from the sparks that flew as the machine let out a pitiful shriek before falling completely silent._

_… just as the robots attacking his teams seemed to fall to the ground, marionettes with their strings cut._

_“Good one, Red!” Bart yelled, excitement making him vibrate._

_“Phew, about time!” Wonder Girl huffed, arms crossing over her chest._

_“You used me as leverage!” Superboy scowled, his eyes wide. “What the fuck!?”_

_“Calm down, amigo!” a teen in purple that was definitely not Jaime laughed, wrapping his arms around Tim as the other teen seemed to sway in place, ready to fall unconscious. “You okay, cariño?”_

_“Yeah, just tired,” Tim assured, a hand on the teen-in-purple’s arm. “We should probably go before the army gets here? Let them do the clean up?”_

_Wonder Girl, Bart and teen-in-purple laughed, nodding their agreement._

_None noticed the way Superboy’s eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushed, he was not angry, Kon could tell, especially considering the way his eyes zeroed in the way teen-in-purple’s arms seemed to fit so snugly around Tim’s waist, the way the other teen seemed comfortable with such demonstrations of affection._

“He was jealous,” Kon told Madame Xanadu when she appeared by his side. “He was jealous that someone had Tim in their arms.”

“He was,” Madame agreed. “Some versions of you are… not as honest as one would appreciate, not even to themselves.”

Kon nodded, feeling an immense sadness at this counterpart of his. Yes, this other version of him could fly, and yes, he obviously had a confidence in him that Kon did not have, just like the previous one, but his bond with Tim, the thing that made them just _them_ was not there.

Not for lack of wanting, obviously, but maybe circumstances had kept them from being better friends?

Poor him of that world.

Xanadu sighed, petting his hair.

“Come on, we’ll do a lightning round now, some universes are weirder than others but not much detail for you to see,” she said, waving her hands.

Once more, there was the light.

_He found himself first, this time, flying through the streets of Metropolis – another him that could fly, it seemed – doing his best to keep up with a figure jumping from rooftop to rooftop, his eyes narrowed against the night air, his lips pulled down into a frown._

_“Stop!” he yelled._

_“What if I like to be chased down by handsome young things like yourself?” the figure teased, voice throaty, smooth yet young._

_Kon finally could distinguish the black leather encasing the man – yeah, it was a man, a teen – the way his hips seemed to undulate with every step, how his eyes were heavy lidded, seductive._

_“Just give me what you took and I’ll forget we ever saw eachother,” Superboy tried again, finally catching up with him, reaching with a hand to grasp at his arm._

_The other teen turned, his smile wide, his eyes piercing blue behind his goggles._

_Kon’s eyes widened._

_Tim?_

_“Now where would be the fun in that?” he asked, clawed fingers running over the S on Kon’s chest._

_“You are breaking the law,” Superboy said nervously. “If you came with me and …”_

_“Joined your little superhero squad?” Tim interrupted, purring. “If Mama Cat didn’t fall for The Bat’s speech, what makes you think I would fall for yours? I’m a free kitty, Superboy, I can’t be tamed.”_

_“Catlad,” Superboy growled, his cheeks a bright red._

_“Oh, I wish I could take you with me…” Tim grinned, eyes wicked, the back of his fingers caressing Superboy’s cheekbones. “Alas, a shame we are in opposite sides of the night, isn’t it?”_

_“Wha-“ Kon was sure Superboy had a plan, something to say to maybe sway Tim to his side. However Tim was faster, his hands reaching for the belt resting low on his hips, his lips reaching to peck Superboy’s own and, suddenly, they were enveloped by a thick, purplish smoke that made Superboy choke and take a step back, coughing all the while._

_By the time he was able to see again, breathe normally again…_

_… Catlad, Tim, was gone._

_Superboy raised a trembling hand to his lips._

_“Damn it,” he whispered._

Another flash of light.  

_Kon found this version of himself the strangest, back in his long-ish, fluffy curly hair and a leather jacket. The S on his chest, however, was replaced by a strange spider, he was swinging from what appeared to be webs from building to building, his cocky smile seemed to fit his younger face._

_By his side, using the usual grapple hook Kon had grown used to seen Tim use, was Robin._

_A girl Robin with pink lips and curled eyelashes._

_“Come on, babe!” he said against the wind, making the girl raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “One chance and I’ll prove to you I can be worth your time.”_

_Girl Robin shook her head, her short hair falling into her eyes._

_“You do realize my mentor will kick your ass if he sees you here?” she asked, her tone sarcastic, biting, the kind of tone Tim used with Roy._

_“Not if I’m trying to ask his baby girl out, right?” this Superboy – spiderboy? – asked back, performing an impressive somersault before catching up to her again._

_Robin laughed._

_“You are definitely out of your league, kid,” she said, still giggling. “Tell you what, help me catch clayface over there and then you can invite me a soda.”_

_Kon’s counterpart shrugged._

_“Sounds good to me,” he agreed._

_The two of them jumped into the fight._

Another flash of light.  

_There was a statue of Kon in this universe, massive and golden, his hand pointing out to the horizon, a beacon for future generations._

_Tim was there too, sitting on his golden shoulder, resting his forehead on Superboy’s massive cheek._

_His mask wet._

_“I know I should be moving on,” he whispered, his voice broken, hoarse. “You wouldn’t want me to be like this but…”_

_A gauntled hand reached to caress the bronze before him, a tear slid down an ivory cheek._

_“I don’t think I can keep going,” Tim finally confessed with a soft sob. “Not without you, Kon.”_

_Kon watched impotently as Tim finally allowed himself to cry, whispering his name over and over, barely holding onto his voice as if not to rouse the other teens still inside the building behind them._

_The inscription on the statue answered whatever questions the clone would have._

**_‘Superboy’_ ** _, it read. **‘Brave Hero, Best Friend, Hope.’** And a date, most likely the date of his demise. _

_Kon felt his heart clench._

Another flash of light.  

_This time, he was inside a rundown apartment in what appeared to be a bad part of Gotham if the police cars passing by his window were any indication, the stench of alcohol and sweat and things Kon didn’t want to mention reached his nose._

_He was there, well, the other him was there, stubbled and red-eyed, dirty and pale._

_Knees folded to his chest, arms around his legs, face partially hidden by a pillow on the floor._

_The phone to his left rang without being answered once, twice, three times, before going straight to voicemail._

_“This is Tim Drake-Wayne,” the machine said cheerfully. Kon’s heart skipped a beat, at the same time as his counterpart let out a small sob. “If you have this number you know I am most likely busy with my--- ah, night job, please leave your message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”_

_Kon’s counterpart hid his face in the pillow for a moment._

_“Kon-El, this is Kal-El,” called Clark’s voice from the phone. “I know you are there, son. Please, pick up.”_

_Kon’s counterpart shook his head, his eyes watering until there were fresh tears running down his skin._

_“I know you miss Tim, Kon-El, believe me, I understand but…” Clark seemed to hesitate, his voice muted, defeated in was Kon had never heard it before. “But you can’t do this to yourself! Tim would have never wanted you to do this, he was your friend and I’m sure he would have-“_

_“He was more than that! He was my everything!” Kon’s counterpart finally cried, his eyes narrowed, a red beam of energy shooting from them and destroying the answering machine and the phone._

_His eyes widened._

_“Oh no,” he whimpered, standing up a little. “No, that was Tim’s recording, that was his voice.”_

_Kon could finally see that, clutched to his chest, was Tim’s red and black shirt, the golden R peeling in places, stained red and brown with blood._

_He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was happening in this universe._

_He closed his eyes._

Another flash of light.  

_Kon instantly spotted Tim, this new universe’s Tim, his back ramrod straight, his pose proud, a new sort of red-and-black uniform that had a cowl covering his face._

_He seemed deep in thought._

_“Why so happy?” Kon’s counterpart – and exact copy of him, this time, down to the black shirt and jeans – “Let me guess… sale on leather?”_

_Tim did not answer, he seemed frozen in shock._

_“You are going to get matching chaps? Is that is?” his counterpart continued, finally landing before his friend, blinking. “Tim?”_

_Tim didn’t move._

_“Hello?” he asked, waving a hand before the other teen’s eyes. “Okay, now you are creeping me out. Will you say…”_

_Tim finally reacted, a beautiful, wide smile curling his lips as he launched himself at Superboy, wrapping his arms around him, his head resting on top of his heart._

_“… Something?” Superboy asked, eyes wide. His body tense and unsure what to do, his cheeks flushed.  “Tim? Buddy? If you are trying to be all dark and grim now, this isn’t going to help.”_

_“You are alive!” Tim cried, his voice soft, overcome with emotions. “You were dead, Bart was dead. You don’t know what that was like and now you are **back**.”  _

_Kon could tell his counterpart had a witty come back to that, a muttered “I know, so do you…” but Tim was pulling his cowl back – he was older than Kon’s Tim, his hair a little longer, framing his face, accentuating his loveliness – his eyes red-rimmed, hopeful, bluer than ever._

_Superboy swallowed._

_“I’m sorry I had to go,” he whispered, his hand cupping Tim’s cheek with infinite tenderness._

_Tim stared at him, his teeth sinking onto his bottom lip for a moment._

_“Don’t do it again,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for a second time. I would follow you if it ever happened.”_

_Superboy finally wrapped his arms around Tim, cradling him impossibly closer, trying to protect him for the world with his presence alone._

_“Never,” he promised, voice hesitant, knowing it was a promise none of them were ever sure they could keep. “I won’t ever leave you again.”_

_They locked gazes for a moment, the silence of the night enveloping them._

_Their lips met in half sweetness, half desperation, Kon’s counterpart’s hands reaching to play with Tim’s hair, Tim’s hands resting on top of Kon’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, reassuring himself._

_Kon watched, his eyes wide, as if the idea that these two counterparts of theirs could be more, would be more than friends, had never occurred to him._

With a blink, he was back inside Madame Xanadu’s parlor, Clark’s hand on his shoulder tense as he shook him, trying to get his attention.

“What happened to him?!” he asked, eyes accusingly on the woman who was staring at him as well, her own eyes wide.

“I think I showed him possibilities he had not considered himself,” she said, her cheeks pink.

“Kon-El?” Clark asked again, his worry evident on his face.

Kon turned to him, his cheeks pink.

“Tim and I… we were…” he fell silent. “He and I…”

Clark’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh,” he whispered, his own eyes widening.

Madame Xanadu shrugged, composing herself.

“It’s usually what happens when there is a universal constant,” she explained. “Those entwined in the constant tend to be, well, constant.”

“I… I see,” Clark agreed, slowly approaching the woman and muttering his thanks to her, shaking her hand hesitantly and inquiring about the protections she had been waving into Kon’s mind as he enjoyed his… glimpses.

Kon didn’t pay any attention to them, his mind slowly processing all that he had witnessed.

Tim and he... they were more than the best of friends, if the other universes were to be believed.

They were soulmates.

 


	7. Interlude: Honestly...

Now that Kon-El had finally found a place in the world, everything seemed far too different. The water tasted sweeter, the air smelled something fierce and there was a spring on his steps as he finally made his way into Mount Justice, a small smile twisting his lips.

Wonder Girl was sitting on the floor by the coffee table, a pen balanced on the bow of her upper lip, face resting on her hands as she stared blankly ahead. To her right, Arsenal was furiously taking notes on a small tablet, brows furrowed, teeth sunk onto his bottom lip, to _his_ right, was Jaime, face eager in interest, eyes eager, a book opened before him.

Before the three, speaking a thousand words per second, was Bart, happily writing equation after equation on a window with a red marker, his beaming smile at full force as he tried to recite complex math to his teammates.

Kon blinked.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Arsenal snapped, metal hand slamming against the table. "Slow down!"

"I'm gonna die!" Wonder Girl nodded in agreement, hands nervously clutching at her long blond hair.

“It’s not that hard!” Bart pouted, eyeing the wall full of numbers he had written so far. “I mean, this is so ancient it’s almost painful.”

"You two are so dramatic, dude," Jaime shrugged, only to earn the glares of his two companions. 

"You..." Wonder Girl snapped, eyes narrowed. "... are a monster and you will never be loved!"

"Ouch," Jaime laughed. "Don't be like that! I'd be the same as you if it wasn't for Robin."

Arsenal's eyes widened.

"You got Baby Bird to tutor you?" He hissed. "How?!"

Jaime blinked back.

"I... asked?"

 Like a pack of vicious animals both teen looked at eachother, until they seemed to reach an agreement, their lips parting wickedly, hungrily...

"No way..." Tim's voice cut through the tense silence as he walked towards them, eyes on the screen of his laptop, lips pursed in thought. "Jaime wanted help studying for an upcoming test, not for me to help him finish his already overdue homework."

Wonder Girl gapped.

"How did you-"

Jaime placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes grim.

Bart giggled behind his hand, practically vibrating with glee as he joined Robin on the couch, his head automatically landing on the other teen’s shoulder.

“He’s Robin,” Bart and Jaime said in unison. “He always knows.”

Wonder Girl and Arsenal threw their hands in the air, groaning loudly as they did so and Kon-El had to admit he was surprised to see the girl among them, because sure, he knew she was a part of the team and that she spent some of her free time at HQ, but she was one of the lucky ones with a family and a civilian life…

… something that had been so alien to him those first years.

He shook his head, relaxing his muscles when Tim turned from his computer – and his hand stopped petting Bart’s fluffy hair – to smile shyly at him.

“Kon,” he greeted warmly, his cheeks pink, his lips curling.

Kon felt his color rise.

Tim was so beautiful.

“Kon! Hey, Kon! Bro!” Bart beamed, jumping from his seat at Tim’s side and jumping onto him, dragging him by the hand towards his improvised whiteboard and grinning at his work. “Please tell these three losers that this is kid’s stuff?”

Kon blinked, not used to being the recipient of Bart’s exuberance and yet oddly pleased to be treated by the younger teen without any deference.

With a short glance to the wall of numbers, the clone managed to hide the small smile curling his lips, until he blinked.

“You are cutting three decimals wrong, Bart,” he told the speedster, an eyebrow raised.

The other teen blinked at him in silence, then at the numbers, his eyes wide.

“Wha- NO WAY!” he cried. “How can you tell?”

Kon simply shrugged, pressing a finger against his forehead.

“Cadmus programed math in my head, remember?”

Bart blinked, his face innocently puzzled, for once conveying his real age.

“Oh, right…”

Arsenal’s metal hand slammed against the table.

“WHAT THE FUCK, BART!” he demanded at the same time as Wonder Girl cracked her knuckles and Jaime moaned in dismay because, apparently, he had been using Bart’s equation to finish his homework.

“I told you this was ancient math to me!!” the teen whined, trying to correct the whole thing and probably escape the beating his comrades were planning in revenge. “I don’t remember _all_ of it!”

“You little…” Arsenal snarled, while Wonder Girl cracked her knuckles.

Bart whimpered.

“Oh, for god’s sake…” Tim huffed as he stood from his seat, annoyance pouring out of him in waves.

All teens turned to him, eyes wide.

“Go to your chair, Bart,” he growled, his frame squared, his chin set.

The speedster blinked, shocked.

“I can still fix it…”

“I said chair, Bartholomew,” Tim said evenly, an eyebrow raised.

Bart obeyed with a small wince, his lips jutting out in a pout.

Tim turned to the dangerous trio.

“You,” he snapped. “Sit down.”

Jaime, Arsenal and Wonder Girl silently obeyed, gapping.

“Now,” Tim said as he grabbed Bart’s red marker, his face set in grimm lines. “I will only explain this once and then I’ll go back to work because I have three reports to finish and one map of the city to go over and _you three_ are going to do your homework like you should have done _weeks_ ago. Are we clear?”

Another silent nod.

“Okay,” Tim sighed, starting to write. “All you have to do…”

Kon watched in awe as his sweet, shy, soft-spoken Tim perfectly channeled the Batman himself, easily commandeering the attention of the room and demanding without words their unquestioned obedience.

Hell, even Kon himself had felt an irrepressible need to go and sit with the others, even when he already knew the material by heart.

The way Tim moved, the confidence with which he spoke and how he easily simplified the material for his comrades had all their team mates paying attention, enraptured by his efficiency.

Kon could easily tell he had the makings of a leader, hiding under his usually small presence. The markings that Kaldur once tried to force himself to adopt and that Nightwing usually evaded like the plague.

No wonder Nightwing wanted him to be here with the team more often than not.

Kon felt so proud.

“… and that’s how you do it,” Tim finished, capping the pen once more and raising an eyebrow when Arsenal scowled at him. “Any questions?”

The redhead opened his mouth, most likely – in Kon’s humble opinion – with some remark about Tim’s petite body, or his doll-like face, but Wonder Girl had a hand firmly behind the other teen’s neck, her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare, Roy,” she hissed. “We _need_ him.”

Arsenal huffed, but obediently conceded to the girl’s glare and lowered his eyes towards his homework.

The blonde beamed.

“None whatsoever,” she said, the picture of complete sweetness. “Thanks, Robin.”

Tim smiled at her, his cheeks pink.

“I’m glad,” he said, shaking his head and walking back to his usual place on the couch, grabbing his computer and blinking when Bart huffed at him, visibly still offended. “Oh, Bart…”

The speedster scowl’s deepened, his arms crossed over his chest as his leg twitched.

“You called me Bartholomew,” he hissed. “No one calls me Bartholomew.”

Tim’s teeth sank on his bottom lip, distressed and a little bit ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly, offering his spread arms towards the other teen. “I didn’t mean to hurt you?”

 Bart  pouted for a second, his eyes narrowed and shoulders  squared.

"Please?"  Tim tried again his voice soft.

Bart flew to his best friend's arms, burrowing his face on the crook of Tim's neck before digging in contentment.

"Never again?" he hissed, fingers digging into Tim's shoulder. The other teen winced.

"Okay," he agreed. "I promise."

"Then you are forgiven," Bart sentenced, smiling.

Tim smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said, moving so the other teen could comfortably snuggle on his side, and then pulled the screen of his computer up once more, eyeing the data.

Kon felt his eyes narrow, his mouth thinning. He needed to remind himself that Bart was nothing but a child – and apparently his name was _Bartholomew_ , which sounded unfortunate to Kon – but the fact that Tim was so open with his affections towards him, and how easily the other teen fell into Tim’s arms –even though Kon had just held Tim’s hand, had never had the ease to just sink around Tim and breathe into his skin, taste his lips… not _yet,_ at least – made something inside of the clone coil like a snake.

Why should Bart be allowed around Tim more readily than anyone else?

Bart already had a boyfriend, Jaime.

Bart was not Tim’s _soulmate_ like Kon was.

Clark would feel ashamed if he knew Kon was feeling like this, he was sure. Because Clark would never feel this burning need to remove someone from his soulmate’s proximity.

But then again Pa’ told him he had done many questionable things to make sure Ma’ was his one and only, which meant that Kon could technically do questionable things to, because Tim _was_ his one and only.

So Clark wouldn’t be angry at him, right?

The clone nodded to himself, walking towards the two teens still sitting on the couch, stoping with hesitation when Tim looked up from his monitor, his fingers still dancing on the keys without his eyes needed.

Kon felt his lips twitch with pride, his Tim was just that talented.

“Kon-El?” Tim asked, his voice full of curiosity.

Bart looked at him with wide golden eyes.

Kon swallowed silently, sitting on the other edge of the couch they were in, his knees trembling, his shoulders squared.

Both teens blinked at him.

Thinking of Pa’s encouragement and closing his eyes, Kon-El allowed himself to fall to his side, his whole body relaxing forcibly, as his head landed squarely on Tim’s lap.

Bart squeaked in surprise, moving slightly away.

Tim’s muscles tensed under Kon’s ear, his pulse growing hummingbird-fast under his skin.

Arsenal, Wonder Girl and Jaime fell completely silent, staring at them in utter shock.

Kon opened his eyes once more, locking his gaze with Tim’s mask.

Not a word was exchanged.

Jaime gapped at them.

Arsenal tried to rise from his spot on the floor.

“What the f-” he tried to say, only to be stopped by Wonder Girl’s hand on his shoulder.

The silence in the room stretched into an eternity.

Tim blinked, the muscle on his cheek jumped under Kon’s vigilant eyes.

His mouth twitched once, twice…

And then his hand went hesitantly – almost inquiringly – to touch Kon’s short hair, his fingers carding through it curiously.

Bart exhaled, far too loudly in the still room.

Jaime snorted, shaking his head, and turning once more towards his unfinished homework, as if the greatest mystery in the world was of no consequence to him.

Wonder Girl eyed them for another second before following suit, her pencil tapping onto Arsenal’s metal arm.

Tim’s face relaxed into the usually fond, small smile he wore around Kon.

 “Honestly…” he whispered, shaking his head and going back to his typing one handed, his other hand now firmly on Kon’s head.

Kon closed his eyes, enjoying Tim’s soft caresses.

Yes, this would do.

 


	8. Power.

“Guys! Come on!” Bart chirped, his sunny eyes wide and full of joy as he jogged on the sand, arms stretched out into the air and holding what seemed to be a banquet precariously squeezed into a basket. “HURRY UP! HURRY UP! HURRY UP!”

Jaime groaned as he hovered in the air holding his own cooler, scowling under the summer sun and hoping they made their way towards camp already. Kon could sympathize with him, to be quite honest, the heat was scorching and they were not in a good position to enjoy the sea breeze quite yet.

Wonder Girl, well, Cassie – she had cornered him with a glint in her eyes, demanding that if the others got to be called by their names she deserved the same courtesy – rolled her eyes at them, flying around with a wide smile on her face.

“Oh, stop whining, Jaime,” she laughed, easily carrying what Kon thought must be the drinks for the day. “We already talked about this.”

“Did we?” Jaime scowled, his mask retracting so he could display the full extent of his displeasure. Kon thought him dramatic, but smart. “Because all I remember is Roy and you deciding on your own and then forcing Bart’s puppy eyes on Robin when he refused.”

Cassie blinked her eyes at him, innocent and girlish.

“Oh, you must be remembering it wrong, then,” she said dismissively with a flick of her long blond hair. “I remember we agreed we needed a team day of our own because we are the kids and we deserve it.”

“And Robin was okay with it too,” Arsenal laughed, walking up to them, his smile as wide as Cassie’s and Bart’s. “And you wanted to see what happens when you put a Bat under the sun, don’t lie.”

Jaime had a few milliseconds to look ashamed before his mask covered his red cheeks.

Cassie laughed.

Arsenal grinned.

Kon scowled from behind them.

By the time he had been informed of the activity he had been resting his head on Tim’s lap – something that was happening more often than not and it was glorious – with Tim’s fingers carding through his hair as the two of them enjoyed a silent afternoon when Cassie burst into the room all excitement and energy, floating before them and speaking a mile a minute.

“No,” Tim had said, not even looking up from the screen he had been reading on.

“Come on!” Cassie had tried then, her voice becoming younger, high pitched. “Please?”

“No, busy,” Tim had replied instantly, simply using his thumb to continue his reading.

“Don’t make me go nuclear on your ass, Robin,” Cassie had threatened, her tone losing all innocence and youth.

Tim had blinked behind his mask, finally looking at the girl in askance just as Kon had been defeated by his own curiosity and opened his eyes as well, wanting to know what Cassie was threatening to do to Tim’s ass.

Turned out it was nothing to do with Tim’s actual, physical ass, but the threat was real nonetheless.

Because she held in her arms a pouting, teary eyed Bart, his fluffy hair combed to maximum fluff, his cheeks rounded and dusted with pink, his eyes wide, his eyelashes wet and his bottom lip trembling with sadness.

“You don’t wanna go to the beach with us, Robin?” he asked, his voice small, quiet.

Kon looked from Bart’s heartbroken face to Cassie’s superior smirk to Tim’s scowl.

Tim took a deep breath.

Then a second one.

His eyes narrowed, set on Cassie.

“You bitch,” he hissed. “When?”

“Saturday, all day,” Cassie had replied instantly.

“You mean it?” Bart asked, his eyes wide, a tentative smile curling his lips.

Tim had sighed then, nodding.

“Yay!” he cheered, wrapping his arms around Tim and then, before Kon even open his mouth, he embraced him as well. “This is gonna be so crash! Thank you guys! I love you!”

“Yeah, you guys, we love you,” Cassie had said, her own smile triumphant. “Let’s go make sure everything’s ready, right Bart?”

“Yeah!” the other teen had cried, his happiness as cheery as the sun, he grabbed Cassie’s hand and dragged her from the common areas, babbling all the while about how them, the younger generation, needed to be friendly and happy and how they needed to be the bestest friends forever.

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Kon stared at him.

“Were we just coerced to a picnic by the sea?” Tim asked, his voice defeated.

“I am not of the new generation,” Kon had said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

Tim’s scowl turned to him, making something inside Kon heat and flutter.

“You are our age and our friend, of course you are coming,” he had said, as if his presence among them was something obvious and Kon was just being silly.

Kon nodded, fighting off the urge to smile, knowing his own face did not look as kind with Clark’s doppy smile plastered all over it.

“Okay,” he agreed, once more resting his ear on Tim’s thigh and closing his eyes.

So, there they were, a week later, walking towards a spot Bart himself had designated the ‘Crash-est’ and wondering exactly what people did at the beach normally – and yes, he was perfectly aware he _had_ been to the beach with the team once before, but at the time he had just followed Nightwing’s lead and could hardly remember being buried under the sand – and how to act around people who not only wanted his presence, but actively looked for it, something that had not happened to him in _years._

“Hey,” Tim called, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Kon blinked at him, his face growing hot under the sun.

Tim was so visibly uncomfortable, with his knee-lengthcargo shorts and over-sized hoodie, sunglasses and hat, enormous beach umbrella balanced on his shoulder in order to protect his pale skin from the sun.

Kon could feel his lips twitch, amused by the image and also impossibly endeared, Tim was there despite his own comfort, because he knew it was important for them, because Bart and Cassie and Jaime and Arsenal were there.

Because Kon was there.

“I...” he hesitated for a moment, not sure how to explain his current dilemma or whether it was okay for him to simply… burden Tim with it. He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Tim tilted his head to the side, his ice blue eyes piercing him even from the darkness of his glasses.

“Try again, pal,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Kon sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m… not used to this,” he admitted finally. “The team and I… we did this, once… before it all went to hell.”

Tim nodded, his face open with understanding and… not really pity, more like a mix of compassion and anger all rolled into a small ball of him. Kon instantly knew what was running through his head, at that moment. What Tim would instantly associate with ‘the team’ as Kon called them. The people who had left him behind, the ones that did not care.

M’gann, who hurt him.

Sometimes Kon regretted telling Tim his secret, if only for the way the teen’s body language seemed to change and tense whenever all active members were reunited in the same room. Whenever M’gann would shyly smile at him, eyes fond with memories of what they used to have and sorrow for what they had lost.

Tim was changing, becoming colder, stronger.

And Kon could only feel it was his fault.

After a prolonged silence, Tim finally took a deep breath, his body minutely relaxing, his fingers growing steady, still against Kon’s bare shoulder.

“I would say….” he said, swallowing whatever it was that seemed to want to take control of his face. “Take back those memories, and this place.”

Kon blinked, confused.

“What?” he asked.

Tim nodded to himself.

“Whatever good memory you had of this place was tainted by what happened….later, right?” he asked, looking at Kon.

The other teen nodded.

Tim’s smile was small, a little broken, but still oh so beautiful.

“Then, reclaim the memories by creating new ones, with people that love you,” he said, his voice such a small, sweet thing, that it seemed to coat every word with the bittersweet taste of his own experience. “If you let the past still bring you… unease, then they still have power over you. Reclaim the places that were tainted, I’d say, take control of your environment back and that way, rob them of that thing that… upsets you.”

Kon stared, eyes wide.

Tim’s cheeks turned bright red, his eyes falling to his bare feet.

“You… think I can do that?” the clone asked, awed.

Tim nodded, his prior confidence defeated by his natural shyness.

“I… I think that you can.”

Clark would later tell him that he should be a little more careful, that Tim, as a normal human being, was fragile and definitely not up to his Kryptonian bouts of joy.

But at the time Kon was too overjoyed to think about Tim’s fragile human physique, or consequences, actually, he wrapped his arms around Tim’s frame, his face buried in Tim’s dark hair – breathing in Tim’s scent of green apple and Kevlar and machine oil – practically vibrating in an effort to contain the feelings that seemed to swallow him whole.

“W-woah!” Tim yelped, his body tense and his voice a small squeak.

“Thank you, Tim,” Kon whispered over and over again, his voice hoarse with the power of his feelings, his breathing ragged. “No one has ever… believed in me like that.”

Tim’s body relaxed once more, his small hands patting his arms gently, awkwardly.

“Umm, Kon?” he said, then, unsure.

Kon shook his head, nose still buried in Tim’s hair – he _had_ knocked Tim’s hat off, apparently – not ready to let go of this boy, this soulmate of his, that was slowly, ever so slowly, giving him back his life.

“Kon… er...” Tim tied again, his voice a little more firm.

“Just… let me...” Kon whispered, his smile so wide it was painful. “Just a few more seconds.”

Tim sighed, the air parting his lips and hitting Kon on the neck, making him shiver in unadulterated pleasure – he _would_ have to examine those reactions later.

“Sure thing, Kon,” Tim agreed with a sigh. “But I … er… I think you miiight want to see this.”

Kon blinked, finally lifting his face from Tim’s hair and staring at the other teen in askance.

“What?” he asked, confused.

Tim’s smile was more confident now, lovely and full of intelligence.

“That,” he said, his fingers pointing at their feet… dangling a foot over the sand.

Kon frowned.

Their feet shouldn’t be dangling, they were standing together just a second ago.

The only way their feet – both of their feet – were dangling right now would be if something was supporting them.

In the air.

Bart chose that particular moment to peek from behind a dune, his eyes wide, his smile sunny.

“GUYS!” he cried, his exhilaration palpable in the air. “Suppey did it! Suppey is flying!!”

Cassie appeared a second after, eyes wide.

“Holy shit! He’s right!” she yelled, arms waving happily. “Congrats Superboy!”

Arsenal and Jaime stared at well, both faces full of confusion.

“So what if he flies,” Arsenal scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You all fly too.”

“But not like this!” Bart protested, arm flailing to point at Kon in all his floating, _flying_ glory. “You all don’t fly like THIS!”

Jaime scratched the stubble growing on his chin, his smile a little kinder, softer.

“I’m… not sure what this is about, I mean, you are _Superboy,_ of course you can do the impossible,” he admitted, as if Kon flying, doing what no one thought him capable was something as normal as the sky being blue. “Still, congratulations, hermano.”

Kon’s eyes widened, realization suddenly dawning on him.

“I’m…” he said, unable to find his voice or form a coherent thought. “I’m… _flying_.”

Tim’s smile turned into a grin full of pride.

“You are flying,” he said, moving his feet in the air as if to prove his point. “I knew you could do it.”

“But... how?” Kon asked, shocked.

“I do have some theories,” Tim assured. “Though we’d had to go back to HQ to be sure.”

“Oh no!” Bart cried, jumping onto Tim’s back and holding onto them for dear life. “We need to celebrate the first day Kon-El flew! This is important! Fundamental! UNIQUE! You can’t go back to boring experiments and thingamajigs NOW! ”

Jaime and Arsenal blinked.

“Thingamajigs?” Jaime asked.

Bart’s cheeks flushed.

“Isn’t that how you past people speak?” he asked. “I’m trying to fit in.”

Arsenal roared with laughter.

“Who taught you that?”

Cassie interrupted them before they, as usual, veered off course and lost the momentum.

“Point being,” she scoffed, wrapping her arms around Kon’s shoulders for a moment. “That we need to celebrate this new development.”

Kon stared at their feet, still hovering, completely safe.

Tim bit his bottom lip.

“That is… if you are okay with that?” he asked, his cheeks once more coloring.

Kon nodded, his own smile shy.

“I… would like that.”

Tim nodded back, hand reaching to push his sunglasses up.

The team – because no matter what the roster was, what everyone else might say, THIS was his team, his friends, now – dragged a still floating Kon and Tim towards an already set barbecue as Arsenal opened bottles for them to drink and Jaime went for the umbrella for Tim’s skin.

They would spend the rest of the day trying to teach Kon how to land and take off, how to twirl in place and elevate at will.

The day would be filled with laughter, pride and music, with the feeling of Bart’s vibrant exuberance and Cassie’s arm on his bicep as she helped him stabilize.

With Tim’s hand on his own when he became too anxious.

Years later, when Kon-El would look at that one nondescript spot on the beach and would smile, because his friends, his family, had just turned a memory tainted by tragedy into something he could treasure once again.

They had given him back his power over himself. 


End file.
